


None But the Brave

by orphan_account



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-07
Updated: 2009-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel and Cam in prison on the Ori's biggest holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None But the Brave

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the title. Cam always makes me think of Bruce Springsteen songs.

The only window was high above them, so they couldn't see, but they could hear the commotion down in the courtyard. Music. A few speeches and then hours of reading aloud. When the sun began to set, the reading stopped and food smells wafted in.

Cam was hungry enough that he was beginning to wonder if the thin shift he'd been given to wear might be edible. Only his embarrassment and his desire to act appropriately in front of a man who was technically still under his command stopped him from tearing off a piece and trying.

*

A couple hours later they heard the heavy doors down the hall clank open and the other prisoners murmur amongst themselves. Streams of people began filing through, looking in each of the cells, as if the prison were some sort of zoo exhibit. Cam thought it was strange no one abused them, but most people looked afraid of them. Only the children met their eyes.

"Say something in Heretic!" a young boy said. His voice had an excited, fearful tone that made Cam think of a child watching a scary movie. Cam couldn't stifle a despondent laugh. When the boy looked hurt, Daniel gave him a few words of German. The boy gasped, peering at them wide-eyed before his mother scolded him and ushered him out.

*

It must have been past midnight before the crowds stopped coming through. They were too cold and hungry to sleep very well, but they huddled together, skin to skin, trying to keep warm.

"I've been debating all evening whether or not to tell you this," Daniel said in a soft voice. His voice sounded strange after the hours of silence. "But I think you should know. We're going to be executed tomorrow, as part of the . . . festival. Since we confessed, it's going to be quick. Not the 'burned alive' thing--firing squad, if I understand them correctly."

Cam didn't doubt Daniel understood them correctly. He wondered what it was like to overhear your own death being talked about.

"Thanks for telling me." Cam thought he should say something more, but he couldn't think of anything. They were silent again for a while, drifting in and out sleep, lying back to front.

Cam was drifting into consciousness when he felt, unmistakably, that Daniel had an erection. Daniel shifted away quickly, but not quickly enough, and then Cam realized it--it wasn't a sleep erection; Daniel was fully awake. And seemed embarrassed.

"Daniel, if you want to go . . . I mean, I won't look or anything. You don't hafta be embarrassed--I've done it in front of other guys before; other guys have done it in front of me."

Daniel gave a humorless little laugh. "But not in a 'gay' way, right? Just cliched military homosocial--"

"Something like that," Cam cut him off. Daniel's bitter tone made him angry and uncomfortable. Was Daniel asking him to apologize for being straight? Jesus.

"Well excuse we for not being grateful for your generous offer to **allow** me to go in the corner and masturbate--"

"That's not what I was say--"

"Then what **were** you saying?"

Cam sighed. "I don't know. You make it sound so . . . haven't you ever just--pretended not to notice the other guy? Like with your college roommate or something?"

"I never lived in a dorm.”

"Fine."

They were quiet again, but it was obvious neither of them was sleeping. Cam thought about the firing squad. He thought he would rather have that than re-live his time in the hospital after the crash: the drugs. Bedpans. Beeping machines at all hours. He clung to that thought; it kept the others at bay. Cam would have been proud of his lack of panic, but he knew it was only brave if you were scared, and all he felt was numb. Also, he was fairly sure that tomorrow, there would be panic.

He figured it was the numbness that made him say it: "Daniel, you want to--um. You know."

Daniel turned his head--they were back to back at this point, not as effective warmth-wise, but better if you were mad at each other. He didn't say anything.

"I'm serious."

Daniel laughed, a choked, bitter sound. It made Cam sick to his stomach.

"Be careful, Mitchell, who knows, I might call your bluff. You're betting I'm too proud to accept pity sex from a straight guy—but how could you think I’ve got any pride left after months in this--"

“I didn’t mean pity sex. Jesus. Shut up and go to sleep if that’s how you feel about.”

“**No**. I'm not going to shut up. How dare you say something like that? Why the fuck should you get to make offering to fuck me a noble fucking gesture?”

“Jesus, Jackson, what do you want? Just drop it--”

“Why do you not understand what a huge fucking insult that is—” And then Daniel said something in a language Cameron didn’t understand, but he could tell Jackson was cursing him and all his ancestors or something. He figured that would be the last word, but then Daniel climbed on top of him, pinning him, and Cam realized his bluff had been called. He hadn’t thought he meant it as a bluff at the time, but now, in retrospect, he realized it was. He thought he should be having a reaction of some kind, but still, all he felt numb.

"You really want to do this?" The anger was gone from Daniel's voice, replaced with something Cam couldn't put his finger on, but it was much more frightening. Fear and sadness and shame all rolled into one. "Would doing this make you feel better? Like you're a brave officer who will bear any indignity for the good of the mission? Who's self-sacrificing to the end? Or would this be an act of mental toughness? Like . . . what kind of stupid shit did you have to do to prove you were man enough for this job? Crawl through a hole of . . . maggots or something?"

When Daniel ran out of steam, Cam didn't say anything; he didn't want to lie. And Daniel, weirdly, didn't get off of him.

"I really want this." Cam wanted to add that doing it wasn't going to be like crawling through a hole of maggots (if Daniel only knew some of the things I've done, he thought), but he knew better than to reopen the issue. And truthfully, the idea of having sex with a man did disgust him. Not hole-of-maggots disgusted him, but he was already psyching himself with dentist office and medical exam comparisons. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Daniel's lips, closed-mouthed, a bit off center. Daniel recoiled and swore.

"Don't you **dare**\--" Daniel sounded anguished.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--I don't know what I was thinking."

It was awkward that there were no clothes to take off. And since there wasn't going to be any foreplay, it felt like there was a gaping space between talk and sex, and Cam wasn't sure how to fill it. He concentrated on trying to get hard. There wasn't any question that was going to be a requirement.

"You really want to do this? I won't think any less of you for backing out . . . not any less than I think of you for offering in the first place."

"I already said yes, Jackson."

“How old were you when you first had sex?”

Cam swallowed. He tried to sound casual. "Sixteen."

"I was eleven."

Cam winced. He hoped Daniel didn't see it in the semi-darkness. "The guy was seventeen," Daniel went on. “He was probably straight too, so you make a nice bookend.” In classic Daniel fashion, it came off as an impassive statement of fact, without a shred of self-pity. Like it was old times, and Daniel was just giving the leader of SG-1 the lay of the land. The intel he needed to get the job done.

“It wasn’t a real bed that time either, it was a box spring. I found out later that wasn’t allowed; foster parents have to give each kid a mattress. I guess no one checked, or it all looked the same under the blankets. So I guess it’s a good bookend in that sense, too.”

Cam knew he wasn't expected to say anything.

Daniel, mercifully, took the lead. It was over fast, and afterward, Daniel slept. Cam stayed awake until the blackness turned gray, till light streaked the ceiling, and the sound of voices picked up in the courtyard.


End file.
